


Dishonor Before Repentance

by SunflowerEater



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Canonical Character Death, Character Death, Heavy Angst, Multi, Reader-Insert, Titans
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-15 02:28:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 19,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28681092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunflowerEater/pseuds/SunflowerEater
Summary: Destiny isn't cruel. The gods are.Unwilling to repent for everything you have thought them to be, the council of gods place you in a world better known by your interpretation as hell. Living has become nothing but dread as you attempt to survive being eaten by titans and killed by humans - you live through spite and nothing else.
Relationships: Bertolt Hoover/Reader, Levi Ackerman & Reader, Marcel Galliard | Berwick/Reader, Mikasa Ackerman/Reader
Comments: 5
Kudos: 15





	1. Death upon a misunderstanding, a challenge accepted

**Author's Note:**

> Humanity, cruel and devious, creations of gods who, in turn, are as cruel or even more so. Man thinks too much, and feels too little, you are nothing but a testament to that statement. Your blood is contracted to the devil — to others, it's something worth repenting for but to you, it's one of the only things you can entrust to survive in a world where everything is against your favour.

The only morality in a cruel world is chance. 

Vision nothing more but a thread of what it used to be, bleary hues attempted to blink away the tears, though there was a figment of a doubt that resided within you that the existence of the stung within your orbs originated from clawing desperation or anything that resembled ache brought forth by the situation you wound up to due to a gamble of luck. 

It appeared as if everything that composed the life you were cursed with was such, a spin of the wheel if one wanted to put it in that manner. A game in which everything you strived for was determined, a sick amusement for something dark and twisted, whoever loved the idea of being alive was either blinded by the idealism of god or purely idiotic, though it wasn't necessarily rare to see both combined. To believe in god was, in itself, a fool's move after all. 

Why place faith in something unseen, unheard, undocumented other than a few statements from a book whose origins were questionable. Why base belief over such trivial matters, how did a man who'd done nothing for the sake of your life receive praise for a victory? You'd always stare at church pews with speculation, why kneel for something so vague, its appearance not even truly unearthed? 

Humanity had gone too far, extinction would have been better than to witness yourselves kill each other for the sake of whatever came to mind. For instance, the unfortunate occurrence you had been somehow shoved in. 

Metallic and sharp, the object hovered right above the skin of your neck, pressing against blood-drained flesh more than what you would put up with in the regular, the fingers that held the knife that would ultimately decide for you whether your life force continued to flicker or not, were trembling, shaking from the cowardice that began to sprout within his chest. 

He was aware that the plan his mind devised out of sheer malice would make a successful future for him be erased from possibilities, he was acting upon a premeditated murder; the male brunette never expected he'd ever have a moment in his life where he would yearn for manslaughter but here he was, hoping that if he was ever lead towards a court, he'd only be charged with such.

This could fall into capital murder, he had realized then, cold sweat trailing down his skin at the thought as his orbs shook in fear at the path he was walking on currently but he proceeded with his plans, raising his chin and gaze clashing against a few others, you had to die. He had been hesitating for nearly a year now and as it stood, he would go behind bars even if he let you run away, you'd sprint towards the nearest person who had a phone and dial the authorities. 

No matter what - you had to pay for what you did. He didn't mind, or particularly care, if the whole world went blind, he'd take an eye for an eye. 

A few weeks had passed since that particular night - your flesh had been cut open, dried crimson blood stuck to the side of the relatively deep wounds, and bruises littered your skin, ranging from your throat where their fingerprints were nearly discernable to your thighs and legs where their shoes had collided with your form constantly during the time you were here, your face and torso had taken most of the beating with visible purple marks staining your abdomen, cheeks receiving multiple gashes from various blades alike; you were somewhat surprised with hints of rage and disappointment that you had yet to die.

What were you living for? For others not involved in this psychopathic murder plan to arrive, to discover your battered and limp sack of flesh with the vaguest of ideas on who you were, and who you would continue to be if you were ever granted the misfortune to live on? 

Blearily, you blink away the dirt that threatened to enter your eyes and temporarily blind you though you seriously doubted it would change anything to your situation. The area was dark to begin with, and though your sight had adjusted to the little light you got, it wasn't as if you could see everything, only the mere silhouette of objects and the occasional individual. 

With broken fingers and toes, with pulled out fingernails and legs hammered to a wooden plank, and with vomit, blood, piss, and feces surrounding your barely breathing form, stripped away from your clothes, writhing away in pain on the cold and cemented floor of a location you were unaware of, you dreaded living any longer. 

You wondered if your lack of luck had gotten you into this, was the roll of a dice a deciding factor into how you would slowly seep away from this life and onto the awaiting arms of death? Squirming, you winced at the pain that pulsed through your limbs before exhaling through your nostrils. Misfortune had followed you ever since you were a child, maybe your awareness of the cruelness of reality was a testament to that. 

Children were often taught that everyone was equal in society, that possibilities came to everyone but you found this system to be cruel, to fool the youth into believing they had a chance even if they were truly a lost cause. But, ironically, those who said that the world would treat everyone fair would also be the ones who would make the young realize truth. 

Why is my classmate getting more candy than I am? Why does teacher give her more attention than me? Why was I reprimanded but he wasn't? Why do they have two parents and I don't? 

Sooner or later, reality would always remind children on how the world functioned, a harsh process where dreams were crushed and hopes shattered. Often, it began during sixth or fifth grade where the gap between unlocked potential known as natural talent and passion became evident. What did blooming drive have against someone who could actually attain what one wanted? What did a dream stand to reality? 

You had known this even when you were young, your lack of talents and anything that made you stand out - it made your fists curl in frustration, that everything you wanted to become would be treacherous one after the other. You lacked the charm to join in with the girls who chattered about dresses and skirts, you didn't have enough physical capabilities to keep up with the boys who ran and jumped through the playing ground. 

Left with nothing else to do and desperate for anything that would make you worth looking at, you had ran towards reference books. Spite drove you to finish all the books in the library of your city by the time you were finishing fifth grade, and it was the same thing that pushed you to compete against individuals who were just as hopeless as you were, going through literature just as you did - your determination, same as theirs, was based simply on your refusal to lose and fall behind. 

Everything was unfair, you had concluded when you had began fourth grade and you continued to believe in your belief. Why did individuals such as you have to exhaust yourselves till you collapsed due to fatigue while others wasted their potential? Why was talent given to those who had no plans to utilize it? 

This world brought you nothing but exasperation for its mere existence. 

Thoughts began to dwindle away as you were barely conscious, finding yourself slight humor in your hopelessness, you wouldn't even be able to say your name or continue to speak even if you managed to live through this catastrophic hell, they had cut off your tongue a few days ago as you kept babbling at the horrendous pain they inflicted, trying to tell them to stop despite the fact that you were aware they wouldn't. 

Desperation did that to an individual, made them so idiotic and hopeful, you would mumble comments about it to yourself if you could but the amount of screams that wracked theough you had damaged your vocal organs without a doubt; you were nothing more than a squirming mound of flesh attached with a few nerves.

Muffled shouts and a few mumbles were exchanged by those who kidnapped you and continuously shattered your humanity but you neither had the energy capacity or the interest to glance at them in curiousity, dying hues staring at a pen that fell off the pocket of your tracksuit pants, you had often caught yourself habitually gazing at it, perhaps the fact that it triggered a few memories of how your life worked beforehand gained your attraction. 

Before you could even begin drifting into thought before the next nightmare began, it had already started much to your immediate regret, mouth opened wide and if you could still emit noise, you were certain a scream would echoe throughout whatever place you had been dragged to, but only a mere broken wheeze left your pitiful writhing form. It pained your overused and sore throat even more so that you began to taste the familiar taste of your own blood, it tasted horrible but you didn't bother to spit it out. 

Sharp blade ripping through the muscles of your lower stomach before being harshly ripped away, crimson blood gushing out in a stream of your looming demise, your body jolted at the ache that the numbness couldn't cease from letting you feel for whatever reason. It happened again, and again, and again - but without any explanation, you found yourself somewhat delighted at the fact that you would be ridden of the pain this world brought you now and then, contentment filling your lungs as they continuously struggled to let you continue on living despite the fact that you wanted nothing but. 

The individual that would be ending your suffering's hand reached forward and grabbed a hold of your weak shoulders to which you merely exhaled harshly at, wincing at the imminent pain that flooded your overridden nerves the movement caused the entirety of your being. His grasp tightened when you continued to weakly stare at the side, not having enough strength to turn your head, the sensation of your own blood staining your skin as the deep red continued to surround you, drenching your back until you managed to force your being into turning your head, finally facing the man whose hands still trembled like the first night you had met him. 

His presence was nonexistent during the days you began to lose whatever capabilities your body had, bones breaking and blood spilling, and you wondered why he only decided to make an appearance now. With a tense jaw, he raised his unoccupied hand before bringing it down, knuckles colliding with your cheek and you simply stayed there, bearing the attack with tears streaming down your dirt and dust-covered features. You acknowledged the fact that it was painful, you wouldn't be able to deny that no matter how hard you tried to but it wasn't like you would be able to do anything about it. 

"Are you happy you killed my sister?! This is what you get, you wrenched wench- you think you can just make up lies about her in front of me, in front of her family, and expect me to believe it!? You have some fucking nerve, you deserve to die! You better go to hell, you fucking piece of shit!"

He screamed, his words echoing against the walls of the vicinity as he continued to slam his fists down against already shattered bones, only worsening the damage that had already been inflicted.

Eyes widening at his words, lips parting as you pleaded with your mind to process his statement, you attempted to finally gasp for air despite the ache in your throat protesting for you to do anything but that - all of the bruises and wounds you now bore, every disgusting touch on your skin, each humane aspect of yourself that you watched wither away helplessly, was because of chance? 

This man had decided to ruin your life, destroy every fragment of your sense of self due to the fact that you had witnessed his sister's suicide, a wicked gamble as if a roll of a dice was the deciding factor as to why you stumbled upon your own grave unknowingly. Your eyes drained from any remaining life they had as everything began to unfold - life had tossed you away again, it had decided your time was over for something so out of your control that it was idiotic. 

The event had transpired a year beforehand, you were an ever-clueless third-year in middle school, living life with a few dreams and regrets, and given it was the end of the trimester and you were graduating, you were allowed to roam around the learning institute a few more times to reminisce on a few memories with friends and classmates.

Not minding the most possible situation in which you seriously doubted that you'd spare them any of your time once in highschool, you'd be moving to Kyoto afterwards anyway so the chances of meeting any of them in a few years was unlikely but you decided to humor them, at least this once you wouldn't ruin something by your refusal. 

They weren't necessarily friends to begin with, just a few people from your neighborhood you knew from childhood. Though you spent weekends with them and responded to their calls whenever you could, they probably considered you more than an acquaintance - but you merely saw them as humans. They weren't tools, they were much more useful than metal and unmoving items but in the end of the day, they were sacks of flesh with a beating heart that would stop one day. 

You had decided to move to the roof as soon as it was about a few minutes till the bell was about to ring, waving goodbye to some people you knew, or you pretended to know, who passed by the hallways as step after step took you towards the highest point of the middle school you attended. 

With your hand fumbling with your phone, you ambled towards your destination calmly, allowing the rays of the sun to hit your skin whenever you walked pass a few windows. The halls were nearly isolated, given most of the occupied classroom where the juniors were still taking their classes in were relatively far away from this area and most clubs who had senior students as members were probably throwing goodbye parties for the graduating few, and despite the fact that the archery club was holding one as well, the club president had decided on a karaoke bar so you wouldn't be meeting up till later. 

You weren't particularly excited or were looking forward to the small gathering, you doubted you'd exchange anything more than a nod to the ones you weren't familiar with but it would ensure the lack of worries for dinner, and the club president had opted to pay for everyone which was another worrisome thought thrown out of your hands. 

Your steps echoed throughout the walls and you found it quite calming, tiny smile appearing at the thought of finally being able to read the latest chapter release of Attack On Titan. You didn't come from a wealthy family and you didn't need or want to bother your mother for the volume releases, you knew your position in life wasn't the most appealing and you didn't step out of your boundaries. You barely even talked about anything regarding your life to your parent, hues shifting tiredly at the onslaught of downing thoughts, you attempted to focus your attention towards your feet. 

Dainty fingers trailed over the cool metal of the handrail, though you didn't really need it for balance, it had almost become an instinct to reach over for it. Pushing the heavy door of the rooftop open, slipping in quietly as you headed towards your usual spot, an area within the edge of the rooftop where a bench was present. Humming to yourself, you couldn't help but feel somewhat giddy to finally be able to sit down and take a break from the socialising with peers, hurriedly trying to say your own farewells to people you hardly even knew but you always managed to snort with your few friends, exchanging waves with individuals you couldn't even remember existed. 

Though your steps ceased when a rather tall girl reached your line of sight, body leaning over the edge as the only thing that held her in place were shaky and loose digits wrapped around the border that separated empty space from the roof. Glancing over at you with trembling orbs, there were tears streaming down her face, staining her cheeks which were flushed red. Suddenly, everything was going too quickly as she screamed at you to get back, laughing at herself more than you as she choked on her sobs.

Jaw tight, you attempted to take another step towards her - try to stop her from continuing on with this hasty plan, you weren't sure what had controlled your limbs and mind to attempt to empathize with her. You barely even cared if she lived or not, her story wasn't any of your business and if she decided to end her own life then that was her own will. Simply, it didn't concern you and whatever pushed her to the brink was yet another thing you wish you cared more about. 

"Don't.. don't be hasty! We can talk this out! What's wrong? Has someone.. is anyone bothering you? I'll keep you safe, come on, get away from there!"

Your words weren't your own, and perhaps even your body wasn't at that moment. You were seeing everything from a third perspective, far away from the mound of flesh you called yourself, and you merely gazed at the desperate individual that was supposedly you, pleading for the girl to step away from the edge with arms wide to show harmlessness. A laugh would escape you then if you were still in your body, if you still had control, you didn't even know who she was, what class she was in - you knew you didn't care. You didn't know why you pretended that you did. 

But you were a martyr, you had to be, a saint sent by the heavens, to try and save someone whom you were begging to live, words tumbling out of your lips like wine but you saw, it was clear how little you sympathised with her situation. Your eyes empty, blank and void as they stared right ahead, not even settling on the girl who was shaking too much. If anything, you thought her to be pitiful to let go of her life so early on. 

Wonderment filled you, thinking about the possibility that she could have suffered more than you but with one squint, you could tell she hadn't, just another one unwanted by society. She didn't deserve your help, you had decided, but even then you continued to act as if you were a god, helping her as much as you could from s distance. 

If god even existed, it would probably be you, you joked with yourself even through this awful sight of the next step towards death.

And then, she had let go of the metal between her fingertips, falling as the wind rushed through her (you wondered if she felt relieved in that moment, or if regret stream through her veins), your legs hurriedly approached, arms extended in front of you, a petty attempt to reach for her despite the fact that you knew you wouldn't, couldn't, be fast enough. With wide orbs, your hues were locked on the girl's limp and lifeless form, blood spilling from her as students who were finally outside rushed to check for a miracle, for a pulse that signified she was alive. 

Being the only other individual who was in the vicinity when she had fallen, you had been brought up for a few interrogations. It wasn't too serious, many youths had died due to their own accord and nearly double of that number attempted but were ultimately ceased by those around them, but adults tried to appear concerned. They built up a facade for those who watched that they genuinely cared about the horrors that lived within the minds of the victims but you knew they didn't. Your father didn't, his fellow policemen didn't, and it was a lie if you said you actually cared as well - you knew you didn't, to care for another was overrated, you didn't even bother with the existence of domesticated animals. 

The moment the last questioning had wrapped up, you were escorted out by the few authorities who were present, dodging maybe four or five journalists from small agencies to ask for the details of the event as you were led inside the police car, template number F42F277, you squinted your eyes at the number for a moment before moving on. "No! I'm telling you, this is a murder case! My sister would never commit suicide, I knew her better than anyone!"

The voice of a man loudly exclaimed as he tried to break free from the hold of another, jaw tense and eyes dazed as the crazed brunette male struggled to reach you. 

"Pathetic."

You muttered before you entered the vehicle, slamming the door shut, clashing gazes with the man that looked at you with nothing but resentment. Feeling nothing about the hatred directed towards you, you simply looked away with uncaring hues. Now, those same eyes collided with your frustrated and beyond malice-filled gaze, teeth clenched as he continued to scream about his irritation that no one realized you were the killer of his sister - he was foolish, a lividness blooming within your chest at the fact that you would pass away due to idiocity. 

With another plunge of the knife, warmth continued to seep away from your body as you practically tried to convince your organs to shut down quicker, a numb ache enclosed you in an embrace as you laid on the cold and cemented ground, limp but still breathing despite everything. Breath staggering, you don't particularly know when consciousness had left you as you bled out, one last kick sent to the base of your spine, corner of your vision being filled with black and dark orange spots before withering away with one last exhale. 

This is where that lead you now, directing your angered gaze at the larger beings who looked down at you, frustration within their core as one spoke, voice booming as the ground beneath you shook. "(L/n) (Y/n), for your constant disbelief of the existence of a higher power even till death, you are required by the council of the gods to explain yourself."

Standing there with hands clenched, you manage to release a bitter laugh at their selfish command, shoulders shaking as you look down at your feet for a moment, toes curling in witheld dread but you fight against the sensation within the back of your head that told you you were about to die. 

"Do you expect me to believe in you?! To praise your name when the world sets itself on fire?!"

The return of your voice is much welcomed as the echoe of your words reach your own ears, strained and dry as you push back the bile that threatens to spill from your lips. Ultimately, you're aware of the gazes that burn their hatred for your existence all over, you can't see where they are but their watchful eyes are like heavyweight on your form, grounding you on the firmament you stand upon. There's a hint of a bemused chortle at the end of your words as you gain enough courage to spread your arms wide before manic laughter spills from your lips like dark purple wine

"And what are you going to do about it, so what if I don't acknowledge any of you as mighty?! Are you going to kill me?" 

Grinning at the self proposition, your triumphant expression showed that you were painfully aware that they wouldn't do something so simple for your punishment of refusal. You were neither ignorant nor were you idiotic, no you simply denied that they existed - and even if you were proven wrong, you would continue to laugh in front of them as if they were nothing but entertainment to you. The gods shared murmurs at your display of denial as their eyes twitched in annoyance at your adamant nature, grin wide with dazed eyes. You acted as if you were god, in front of beings that were actual celestial beings and to say that they didn't harbor a sense of amusement at your chivalry was a lie. 

"Are you going to send me to hell? Are you going to burn me alive? Then why not! That's all you're good for anyway, getting rid of people that you don't like! You act like a damn child, unable to do anything else because you stand in these marbled walls and gold-littered streets, you haven't experienced life! You act as if you're better than me but you've never had to worry about bleeding out on the floor, you see me as if I'm a fly but I've gone through more pain than any of you!"

You spat, venom dripping from your voice, wracking shaking hands through tangled hair as a form of grasp in reality. 

Your hatred not relenting as the anger continued running through you like hellfire from abandoned churches, as if everything that made you up now was a fragment of a grudge. You were a vessel of rage, void with nothing but resentment flowing through every nerve that existed within you.

"You will return to the circle of life, reincarnation. We will make you believe in us, you will repent."

One of them had stated, their voice calm but the hints of irritation hanging off his words were clear, you wondered if it left a bitter taste on the tip of their tongue. 

"Please do that.. self-proclaimed gods."

The last word leaves a sour sensation to settle on the base of your tongue but you make no attempts to take them back, mockingly lowering your head with a hand on your chest, the sound of clicking tongues in disapproval at your attempt to poke fun at them not received well.

"You're an incredibly stubborn one, aren't you?"

One drawls, the rhetoric question echoing throughout the vicinity.

"Where do you think I got it from?"

Venomous sarcasm drips from your tone of voice, a soft glare covering your features with a smile that continues to ridicule their name in silence. 

Within a few seconds, you collapsed on the floor, to be sent to another world for the sake of living out a life for pure spite, again. You wish you'd forget everything that transpired within a few weeks in your life.


	2. Innocence forgotten, an inevitability awakens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The process of returning to the circle of life begins, and realization quickly dawns upon you that there is little relief present in this world. Your only motivation to go forward is spiteful rage, and the irking feeling of humiliation that settles within you whenever the thought of death creeps in. Very quickly, everything around you begins to rot away and you are left nothing to do but follow.

Oftentimes giving life is the cruelest thing a god can do. 

The idea of time had been lost alongside all the concepts that had been considered inevitable, somewhat tossed aside as everything that engulfed you was a warmth you never wished to be separated from, as if a soft prickle against the skin alike to grass swaying against your body alongside a somehow perfected combination of coolness and warmth, wrapping you in a cocoon or comfort you would rather stay in forever. 

Your consciousness was barely hanging, oftentimes you'd just black out within seconds of regaining thought, it was a process you didn't mind despite everything - you weren't even relatively certain why you had been placed in this wonderful area, though much too cramped for your liking. Then, everything that surrounded you slowly began to dissolve; or rather pulled away as your skin soon felt to be pressing against various needles, a dull ache that assaulted your form all over.

And then, a newfound struggle began as a recently discovered inability (though, it was more in the lines of forgetting something, you had noticed) pushed through, as you settled into a panic, lungs and body fighting for whatever you needed to continue living on. As if one hadn't cried in too long a time, a painful scream that came more as a sound of weeping ripped from your chest as you continued to gasp for air to no avail. Your sight was murky, vision being met with a gray sky - a gray world? Or perhaps, you were blind, panic settled into your chest at the possibility as you tried to squirm around but unable to move around your limbs very much, you merely twitched. The world around you was filled with chaotic colours and blurred lines, like an image see through unfitting lenses that you wished to break. 

You didn't understand why, you could neither see clearly, hear, feel anything excluding the excruciating pain of the atmosphere. Wherever you were, you didn't wish to know and it was the least of your worries - was your last line of thought before you seemingly lost consciousness once more. Subjectively speaking, a few years had gone by since then, nearly three or four, you had no exact number to follow as you had no motivation, nor the slightest idea to where you even were. It took you a particularly long time to learn how to utilise your own body, limbs being weak and all. Time didn't really pass by slowly, seeing that you often backed out in random times of the day for whatever reason your weak vessel ought as an explanation to its obscene weakness. 

"Ah.. it seems you've completely forgotten the objective of this game we are playing."

Spoke a voice from behind you. At that time of your life, you were merely a child with some sort of consciousness that came to be once in awhile before disappearing. In a child like manner, you had turned to face the direction of the sound and was met with the sight of your father's wooden human doll he used with his dressmaking work. Left bewildered, you crawled over towards the table where the object was placed, head tilted curiously at the misconception your brain had unraveled before you. 

Eyes squinting and nose scrunching, you continued to stare at the wooden thing you considered a toy back then before it spoke once more, a few of its sturdy limbs even moving to its own accord as if someone was manipulating it. Amused and clueless, you freely laughed at the sight, clapping your mushy hands together to a nonexistent beat.

"Oh, how I wish to let you remain this way but a challenge is a challenge, and you'll need your memories for that, won't you?"

It asked again, manoeuvring its way out of the table and on the ground where you sat with sparkling orbs - to see those innocence-filled eyes be filled with a sudden dawning realization would be a pretty sight indeed. 

Carefully, it placed one of its hand on your skin and everything in your mind had come to a halting stop, gears ceasing to turn before going into overdrive, memories of a past life begining to return to you despite your unwillingness. A reminder of the pain and the bruises, the misunderstanding that led to your death, a challenge you had accepted through anger and spite, your ideals seeping back into your skin and your spine carved out through years of acceptance for everything considered inevitable rushing in like a flood. Staring at the rough material you currently sat on, then at your tiny and chubby fingers, you squinted at the sight of them. 

"Finally! You're he-",

Before the doll could even finish whatever it wished to say, you had slapped it away with the back of your hand subconsciously, its wooden form cluttering against the floor boards though you were much too focused on the pain that the action had given you, the area reddening and your orbs widened, you weren't supposed to be this weak. Then again, this vessel wasn't the one you were most accustomed to, anyway. 

"You're too quick to act, you didn't even know what I was gonna say."

The tiny doll drawled out before standing and walking towards your tiny form, you simply blinked at his approaching figure. You had a sense of who he was, or rather, who he represented. 

"Welcome to the journey of reincarnation! You've taken on the challenge of the gods, I commend you for your bravery and foolishness! I will represent the whole committee, I am neither a guide nor a trainer! My only goal is to be the device you will speak to once you decide to finally give up and repent! Call me however you'd like!"

For something that wasn't alive, he sure was a rather enthusiastic individual, you deadpanned before attempting to abruptly stand up, but ending up failing as your lower half slammed against the surface to which you winced at. A laugh left the nonexistent lips of the doll at your struggle to even stand up and you glared at it in retaliation. 

"Adam-"

You had called, naming him after the first man, somewhat of a mockery that you thought him nothing but the same as you, or even lower. Before you could even finish whatever you were about to ask him, he had rigidly turned to you before speaking in a grave voice.

"Don't call me that",

He silently threatened but your lips merely form a lopsided grin. 

"I could call you however I like... Was it?"

In a tone that showed you had absolutely no respect for whatever opinion he held, you reminded him of his owns words, he responded with a heavy and frustrated sigh, mumbling silently to himself before he went rigid. 

You concluded he had already abandoned the wooden vessel. Shifting your eyes at the living room you were in, you were irritated at the sight that greeted you, you weren't necessarily looking forward to spending this reincarnation - especially because it seemed this world was lagging behind in terms of technological advancements. 

Through some observations you made while trying to appear as if you were a normal three-year-old child. When you had exited the house for the first time since regaining your memories, the occurrence of your gaze settling on the enormous walls wasn't a very pleasing one as you attempted to form any coherent sentence, ideas jumbling together as your mind tried to comprehend the current situation at hand - walls, seemingly in the past, a language that didn't necessarily sound like anything you recognized. Biting the inside of your lips, you chewed on the mound of your own flesh before cursing under your breath as you finally escaped the stage of denial.

In addition, you were an Ackerman - or at least half, as far as you were concerned. It wasn't something you really considered much of a blessing, given you planned to live inside the walls as much as you could. Your family lived inside wall Rose, most definitely better than living inside any of the outer districts like some of the characters in this show. If you were ever going to join the military, it would only be because you had run out of options to reach the interior, the Military Brigade your only surviving hope. 

You spent most of your time inside your house, interacting with the children and adults once in awhile to garner their favour - your appearance was modified only slightly to match a few of the physical characteristics of an Ackerman, so you hoped to gain the attention of a few townsfolks, they'd be able to give you food and perhaps even a place to reside in for a few days if anything went wrong with your plan, or if your parents unfortunately perished. It wasn't a possibility that was too far out there, particularly because of the world that you currently resided in. After all, it seemed like the gods had made every effort to make your reincarnation burdensome enough where every turn without their help would get you killed. 

How generous of them to make you an Ackerman, indeed, although you doubted it was because they wanted you to live. Probably just enough to have you begging for forgiveness, you narrowed your eyes at the thought, before proceeding to write on your notebook. Your bond with your parents were ideal, they were caring and genuine people that didn't really expect much of you other than to enjoy your life and survive and although you tried to not get close to them, some remnants of the innocence your mind had would crawl back up your throat and make you want to interact more with them. 

It was undoubtedly a disgusting sight, and you'd always curse whenever the familiar creeping sensation of innocence started to suffocate you. You didn't want to treasure them, of course you didn't, everything in this godforsaken situation was supposed to pain you to an extent that you'd surrender even through your stubborness - of course you'd try to never get attached to someone. It was a given, you assumed, a natural instinct so you wouldn't have to suffer as much. 

Now, you were around five years old or so, listening to the plan your parents and uncle had managed to make, and right in front of you, your plan had began to dwindle away - outside the walls, sure, it seemed like a lovely thought to be away from all of this trouble and not dealing with the ever looming danger of the children part of the warrior program would have been wonderful but going outside the walls was suicidal. It wasn't entirely impossible to exit given your mother and uncle were part of the Scouting Legion but the entire problem began when it came to surviving outside the walls. Was your death already awaiting you, would the dreams for liberty kill you, would pure idiocity result in your doom once more? 

Though, it wasn't like you could avoid it, surviving inside these walls without adults would be difficult. Despite your thinking being able to challenge that of adults, your physical strength still matched that of your age group much to your disma. So, as a result, you had no choice but to forcefully kill your frustration, scrapped your plan in working inside the interior, and begin training though begrudgingly, at first. You weren't essentially required to wear the ODM gear as your body couldn't possibly support all of that weight without affecting your growth, but you were taught how it functioned and had to try and carry the necessary equipment for it to function, just in case you were put in a critical situation where your only way out was to use the gear.

You would have been exhilarated to see the sight of those familiar leather straps wrapped around you, customized by your father to fit your size, you would have squealed in excitement to be able to feel the ODM against your skin - if only the world wasn't as cruel as it was, if only the gods who made it weren't sadistic motherfuckers who didn't love to see your pain, drooling at destruction and finding delight in the screams that echoe throughout the planet. Watching your reflection on the mirror, leather wrapped around your limbs and carrying the main unit of the equipment, the items resting against your hips, appearing too large for your smaller form. 

Squinting your eyes, you turned on your heel before walking away briskly, exiting your uncle's house and towards the forest that was his backyard.

"Hurry up, kid!"

the aforementioned man called out as he spared you a glimpse, clad in all the equipment and carrying it like it was nothing, you wondered how strong he truly was whilst you nodded and hurried towards his side. Tapping the tips of your boots against the ground, you observed your footwear for a moment before the usual practice began, filled with ache on your bones and muscles, a few occasional tears, and lots of sweating under the scorching sun the trees couldn't quite filter out. 

You just wanted to avoid losing any of them, they were convenient for your survival and they had the skills to both train and teach you about various things you've yet to learn about this world. Although, you would begrudgingly admit that you treasured them slightly especially when your father let you ride his back, when your mother wracked her fingers through your hair, dull nails scratching against your scalp, or when your uncle let you join him whenever he went to town or just when he wanted to take his horse to the fields - those were peaceful times, far more peaceful than what you had encountered in your previous life. Trapped in classrooms and listening to your teacher say words that barely made any sense, finding x and y without even finding your purpose for living. 

Feeling somewhat liberated when you glanced at the window and the refreshing wind blew against your face but being reminded of its cruelty once a classmate of yours pointed out how messy your hair had become, to which you nervously fidget at before attempting to fix it as much as possible. No, those were times you never wanted to go back to again. Having an adult to rely on and not having to do everything yourself was a nice change, you realised, when you had gotten home from school and your father was there to greet you, already cooking dinner while your mother read the newspaper. 

As much as you would regret it in the future, you had started to have fun - you had started to love this somehow humane process of life although you knew it wouldn't last for long. You had killed that light-hearted feeling as soon as you could, it wasn't needed. You didn't need to have any connections to these walls, the only thing you had to do was survive, or maybe die due to a gunshot. 

Death was a solution for everything, but you wouldn't allow your own hands to take your life, you lived out of spite and shame was something you'd rather not encounter at the end of this hellish journey.

"Papa, what if the titans manage to catch us...?"

You ask, curiousity in your orbs that you attempt to hide. It's not an innocent curiousity, it's not your mind drifting off to nowhere like a child's - it's to prepare for what you know is the most possible to happen, it's impossible for you to completely ignore the danger you're about to face as soon as you exit the last of the walls, once you step a foot outside of Quinta District, you may as well be dead meat with boots.

"We're gonna be fine, (Y/n)! Your uncle Midori is definitely gonna protect us, your mother too!"

You weren't too certain if he'd be able to live up to his words and if they'd truly be able to do it but since the four of you would only be taking action during night time where titan activity was the most scarce though not completely nonexistent, there was a chance. 

That was what you would have liked to believe, it would have been an ideal situation if that was the case, wouldn't it be? You ask yourself these questions as your panic-stricken hues observe your mother being grabbed by her torso, desperate and panting as she tried to squirm her way out of the iron grip of the titan that held her captive, sweat glistening her skin as the moon illuminated the subject of your horrors. It's going to be fine, you try to tell yourself these words so that you'll believe them but your eyes are trembling and tears are already dampening your cheeks. You don't know, and you don't specifically want to know, what drives you to struggle against your father's faltering hold on your form - you know he wants to save his wife as well, you know better than anyone. 

Your tiny hands slam against his body once, twice, thrice - to many times for you to really count although it's not as if you bothered to do it in the first place. There's nothing you can do, you understand your standing in this world and that you're nothing but a useless piece among all others but right now, you feel as if you can actually make a difference - a fool's move. Clenching his eyes shut, your father hands you over to your uncle who looks conflicted on what he should do. His sister was dying behind him as the horses continued to drag you away from the blood-curdling scene, and he couldn't do anything that would change the outcome of all of this. 

Perhaps he had been too loose, he thinks to himself whilst his grasp on the reigns of the horse tighten incredibly, leather straps digging into skin. The first few days had started off well and there were close to no interactions with titans and as the days progressed, you had to encounter a few - none of them could move given it was night. Supposedly, it was an ideal situation for the four of you and then titans who had managed to still move through night came to shatter your painted hopes. Sucking in a breath, you grabbed a hold of some of your uncle's clothing, the fabric between your fingers doing nothing to console you from your loss of your mother. 

Then, a titan's body came colliding against your father's horse and body from his side, it all played out so slowly in your head that you could see each shift in his facial expressions as it turned into one of sorrow to pain, realization dawning upon him at what the source of the sudden pain had originated from. Gritting your teeth, you try to stay grounded, you can't die because of an irrational decision on your end, that was something you would most definitely not accept. Die due to the idiocity of the people around you was infuriating, dying because of a stray bullet and dying quickly was the ideal situation, dying because of your own irrationality? It was something you saw as humiliation. 

The gods would surely laugh at you once you died, and you'd have no choice but to bear all that embarrassment on your back. With a clenched jaw, you shut your eyes tight and buried your nose in the jacket your uncle donned, trying to push away the sight of your mother's limbs getting torn off from her torso, the screams of your father as he tried to reach out to his wife one last time futile as his form got surrounded by two more titans. For now, they were relatively distracted and your uncle had seen this as a chance to get away, as far as possible from the terror that titans left in their wake. His limbs were tense, you knew you weren't the only one fighting against inner turmoil - you knew better than to assume you had it worst, because the man whose gaze was fixated in front of him wanted to do nothing but go back and risk his life for nothing. 

But nonetheless of everything inside of him telling him to defy logic and to have at least something that resembled his sister and her husband for a funeral, he continued onwards. He knew he would die, and if he died then you would die and he couldn't let such a young child's life, still filled with so much potential for anything desired to be wasted because of his own selfishness. 

It took a few more days filled with silence creeping in like a clawing in your chest for the both of you to reach shore, perhaps your silence had promoted the lack of any further major accidents though you did need to hide from a few stray titans that had adapted to the night more often than not. There weren't a lot that had managed to do it so you were relatively safe if you just avoided the areas where titan activity was more abundant than not, which was a task in itself. 

Though, against all odds, the two of you had managed to reach shore - famished, exhausted, and battered beyond comprehension but alive nevertheless, which you didn't know if you should categorize as a blessing or as a curse, or perhaps a peculiar combination of the two. There was a boat with a man a considerable distance away from the shore, closing in on your forms once his gaze settled on your barely breathing bodies. It was a simple fishing boat but anything that could get you out of this island would be appreciated nonetheless of its condition. 

As soon as his vehicle was at a distance where you could reach without the risk drowning, your uncle had crouched down for a moment to allow you to climb on his back. Appreciating the gesture, you breathed out a sigh through your nose before doing such, his hold on you loose. Beginning to walk which inevitably resulted in his lower half being drenched, he made every effort to not let the water touch your toes, perhaps as somewhat of a feeble attempt to silently apologize for his incapability. 

You didn't react, merely resting your weight on his back. His apology wasn't needed, he only needed to act, that was all you required of him. He wasn't god, you didn't expect him to take on that role for you knew god was nothing but a cruel man with selfish desires and its existence was the core of your hatred.

Finally reaching the wooden boat, the moon barely illuminated the surrounding areas but you managed to work with it.

"Midori! I thought there were four of you?"

The tanned and older male said, how he knew was beyond you but you'd make sure to ask your uncle about it once you had no company to overhear the conversation, it didn't feel natural to merely open up to anyone without thinking of the consequences you would have to carry on - not if they died but when they died. 

It was a silent ride towards the nearest island, you physically shivered at the thought of having to go to Marley but it wasn't as if you could go anywhere else. You were a huge but generally silent fan of Attack On Titan in your previous life, intrigued by the plot and the characters, and often read theories or biographies for various stuff that was seen as unimportant to other fans who preferred to merely watch or read the content and move on with their lives, perhaps putting into memory one or two details. 

But, you had a particular interest in literature for you constant inability to keep up with ever changing trends and given you weren't that physically talented. You weren't inclined to read each and every detail in the content that you consumed but Attack On Titan was far too thrilling, and reading biographies and the science behind the show occupied you whenever there weren't any new releases in terms of the anime and the manga.

Due to your somewhat obsession with the show, you had come to understand that discrimination against Eldians, most probably due to the fact that Marley utilized both pure titans and those who had control over themselves in war. You had hypothesised that most residents of this world knew of the abilities being a subject of Ymir had, and would use that for any chance of success, even if it was little, against Marley when it came to war. It was disgusting but inevitable, there wasn't really anything else you could do about it. 

You weren't here to change the world, you were here to stay alive. Sure, you would have loved to meet your favourite characters but you could live without. One of the warrior candidates whose name you hadn't really put in mind had lived in another country beforehand, and said that Marley was one of the most tolerant people when it came to the presence of Eldians beings nearby. Sure, you'd have to live with discrimination and being treated as a second-class citizen but you were rather used to it, you humoured, your own world wasn't exactly living in a picturesque situation either. 

The fishing boat had stopped at a port that didn't appear like it had been used, which was ideal since you ultimately didn't want to get caught by anyone. Being turned into a mindless titan the moment you set foot on foreign land wasn't exactly something you would have preferred. It wasn't the worst scenario though, you'd die quickly at least but with a shake of your head and a sigh, you let the thought drift afar. It'd probably resurface again later on but you'd deal with it once that time arrived. For now, you focused at the task at hand. 

Your uncle helped you off the boat, which you appreciated since your body wasn't complying with your mind as much as you hated it, settling your feet unto sturdy ground as you stared at your boots, dirty but still functional for the most part if you ignored some aspect of it which only contributed to its physical appearance. The man, who you now realize is especially tall, hands you a white armband and you observe it for a moment, feeling the cloth beneath your fingers before your uncle asks for it, to which you comply, giving th arm band to him without much need for prodding. 

You were aware of what it was, you'd be stupid not to but the fact that your status as an individual would be reliant on this piece of cloth was hard to grasp. In addition, you couldn't know what purpose this seemingly innocent white piece of cloth had, so you began to act clueless of what it was, allowing your uncle to wrap the armband around your left arm with a pin, you mumbled your gratitude before pausing, which the black-haired male raised both his brows at. Turning on your heel, you faced a certain direction where you saw a person hidden behind the areas where shadows were prominent, you couldn't see much of his features though. Narrowing your eyes at the figure, the individual seemed to match your gaze with his own, though less hostile. 

Catching the attention of the man who helped you escape that hell of an island, he took a glimpse to where your gaze was directed a soft smile spread across his cheeks.

"Come on now, don't be shy, introduce yourself. And give them the stuff I told you to bring."

His words were hushed, perhaps not wanting to attract attention to any of you despite any activity in the area being scarce. You understood the worry so you followed suit, inching closer to your uncle but not quite touching him. Your thankfulness for their generosity was inevitably existing but it wasn't as if you immediately trusted them, their actions were appreciated but would not explain why they decided to do so. 

You were pessimistic for the most part, you would admit to that, but it was only because you had a realistic outlook in life. These people were strangers to you and although they were Eldian judging from the arm bands they wore, it didn't mean they wouldn't see you as people lower than them. After all, you did come from the island just a few hours away from the place you now stood on, it wasn't completely out there. As soon as he took a step and the moonlight illuminated some of his features, your mouth turned dry as you tried to suppress the slight glee that would surely appear on your face if you weren't furrowing your brows and clenching your jaw. 

"Bertholdt.. Bertholdt Hoover.."

His voice was quiet, extremely so to the extent that you probably wouldn't be able to hear him if not for the silence that encompassed the four of you at that moment. His hair was cleanly cut and short, not necessarily standing tall. You stared at him blankly. For the most part you were more open-minded than most of the fans of the show, you understood almost immediately that the children part of the Warrior program weren't doing it with a clear picture of the truth. 

Most of them did it in fear of death, hoping to live a better life and to provide that for their immediate family as well while some did it out of loyalty, manipulated all their lives to believe that they were the roots of all the evil in this world and to become a Titan shifter was equivalent to atonement. To see one side as good and to view the other as bad in this cruel world was a mistake for the problems were too deep-rooted to truly consider one more humane than the other. 

Marley's treatment towards Eldians were a given, somewhat, if taken into consideration the abilities that your people's blood possessed and the mistreatment they also faced during a time where they were still the minority. Despite that, you weren't excusing their attitude towards the latter group, their years of trauma explained the directed hatred but it did not justify it nor did it suddenly make it tolerable. Same went for the Eldians, if the king had not taken pity on the citizens of Marley - it was a process of cruelty that this world had considered inevitable. A process that humanity had done on its own. 

It should have been a crime to be considered humane, for nothing is more inhumane than being human. 

"I'm Midori, and this is  
(Y/n)."

Your uncle gestured to you, to which you responded with an offered glance at him that lasted for a few seconds to feign hesitation and he nodded in return, as if reassuring you that speaking would bring no harm. Allowing a smile to spread across your cheeks, lips curling upwards though it was nothing short of fabricated, you didn't particularly like faking a smile as you thought it was severely overrated and it tired you to no ends to have to act happy in a world where everything was against your will but, nonetheless, you relented against the fatigue that chewed you out. 

"Ye... Yeah."

He mumbled under his breath, a reflection to his personality. Nodding your head, you adjusted the arm band slightly so that it fit your arm better as the tanned boy handed over two jackets though he held four in total, you guessed the remaining were supposedly for your parents if they made it out, you grimaced at the thought but quickly accepted it. Nodding curtly, you wrapped the cotton around yourself after taking off the armband after realization hit you that the jacket would cover it up, before observing the definitely oversized article of clothing. 

You didn't particularly mind, it gave you warmth and that was all you expect it to do.

"You'll be staying at our house for the meantime, but you're free to move out as soon as you can provide for yourself."

The tallest among all of you had exclaimed before walking forward and leading the way, you caught the latter's son taking a glimpse of you and your uncle but you didn't bother to bring it up, he was most probably curious above anything else, your whereabouts and why his father was so willing to extend his assistance - the latter of which you needed answers for as well. 

You didn't trust anyone here at the moment, and for fairly good reasons. Even though you didn't despise them nonetheless of what they've done as you were given the blessing of knowledge and truth, it wasn't like you didn't put the blame on them over your parent's death. Whether indirectly or not, those titans had been sent to Paradis Island by the government of Marley and though neither of the two individuals who were in front, backs faced towards you, were directly involved, you needed to target your rage unto something. It was a petty excuse for your hatred so you could stop blaming yourself for your inability to do anything, but it was what you would settle for, for the meantime. 

"This is one of the many interment zones scattered around Marley's territory. It's called Liberio."

He grinned, taking a small and brief glance towards the two of you who were at the back. You tiredly blinked at the sight of the buildings, they weren't impressive by your standard but it made a smile creep up on your face, this wasn't exactly an unwelcomed change given how slow technology developed inside the walls. It was something you saw as somewhat of an inevitable though, their territory was limited, they barely had any resources to take inspiration from, going to school was practically considered a privelage and only those in the interiors could attend if their families were well off. 

That, and considering that most of their efforts in terms of technological advancements were circled around equipment that would assist them with slaying the titans. The ODM gear was effective, one could say, but needed much training to fully master, and most still died despite the additional assistance. Eyes trailing over to the pavement, you squinted your eyes at the sight of a flower growing through much difficulty and with a sigh through your nose, you avoided it. You'd leave the killing of it for another person. 

The Hoover household was very generous towards you and your uncle, feeding you dinner and telling you to help yourselves which was quite embarrassing given you had to eat in front of people whose plates were empty. Your eyes were, for the most part, fixed on your silverware as you ate as much as you could without appearing greedy or starving, although you most definitely were. The food supply you had when exiting the walls were very limited and you'd ran out of food without much time despite all of you trying to eat as less as possible, only consuming the amount that would support your survival. 

Bertholdt had merely given all of you a simple nod before walking hurriedly to a direction, you assumed his bedroom and his mother had only laughed, explaining that he was usually this quiet and non-confrontational whenever guests he didn't know entered the home and it wasn't anything personal, though you doubted it was. The both of you hadn't even had a proper conversation yet, you were guessing he didn't even take note of what your name was - which you really didn't care about. 

You hoped your uncle and you could find jobs soon, though yours definitely less demanding as your vessel was still growing and you didn't want to majorly hinder that with heavy work from a young age. Leaving the Hoover household as soon as possible would be an ideal situation for you, it wasn't that you hated them but more in the sense that living under the same roof was both extremely humiliating since being an inconvenience was the least of your desires, and crossed a few lines you essentially didn't want crossed. 

Who knows when Adam would suddenly show up again, taking possession of a random item and speaking. Someone overhearing that was something you wished to never happen, you groaned at the very probable possibility as you lay on the bed, your muscles giving out as fatigue crawled up.

"Congratulations, you survived."

The familiar voice sounded amused and your dark eyes glanced at the lantern that Bertholdt's father had lit up earlier, the only light source of the room. You were somewhat relieved that your uncle had offered to wash the dishes despite Mrs. Hoover trying to convince him that she'd do it herself and he should rest, if his dirtied clothes said anything about his condition. 

"My parents died."

You countered, not wanting to show your frustration but the stiffness of your voice letting on more than you wanted others to know. A hum left the representative of the gods, entertained by you trying to withhold your anger, knowing if you let your rage manifest into your responses then you'd definitely alarm the residents of the house, and even the neighbors as you didn't exactly have a soft and delightful tone of voice.

"It was necessary." 

Your fingers tightly clenched into a fist as you sat up, struggling but nevertheless achieving it in the end though your joints screamed at your decision, you tried to not show the ache in your bones too much. Appearing weak in front of this individual, if he could be called that, would be difficult to deal with.

"Like how it was necessary for the so-called god of the bible to use humans as tools for writing because that fucker was probably an illiterate piece of shit?"

Adam went quiet at this, you could feel his glare being directed towards you although the object he possessed bore no facial structures whatsoever. 

Feeling victorious at the petty victory, the celebration was soon cut short by the chortle he released to which you narrowed your eyes at. It was never truly good for you whenever he felt amused by something, it was most probably something that would make your life in this world majorly difficult which was not something you were looking forward to whatsoever. 

"I'll let you get away unharmed this time,"

He began, and you gritted your teeth at the silent threat as your glare darkened. You knew he, alongside all the other self-proclaimed gods had the capabilities to break your body beyond repair, but they merely chose not to for more entertainment. What could a doll with a shattered vessel do, was probably what they thought. 

"After all, you're in for a big surprise."

Those words didn't sit right with you as the room as soon drowned in silence once more. Brows furrowed, you stared at your overgrown nails, dirt beneath them which you tried to pick out, it was a distraction to the unsettling feeling that was growing inside the pit of your stomach at his words. A big surprise for them, a huge disadvantage for you; it was pretty clear that this so-called surprise of theirs wouldn't work in your favour at all. 

As the door creaked open, its hinges needing to be oiled but not being acted on, you saw your uncle drying off his hands with the insides of his Scouting Legion hood. Taking a glance at you being seated on the small bed, he gestured for you to scoot over with a wave of his hand and you did so, but not really laying down as you didn't feel like you'd be able to sleep anytime soon with this bothersome thought about the surprise troubling you. You desperately hoped it wasn't being discovered by the Public Security Authorities, you curled your toes in irritation at the probability. 

"I need to talk to you about something.."

Your uncle's words were trailing and your heart nearly stopped, hands turning cold at the implication of his words. What he would say next would be the "surprise" Adam had mentioned a few minutes ago, your only remaining direct family member saying something that would supposedly ruin everything you had worked hard for up till now was a bone-shattering realisation of how severe this would be. 

"I need to tell you about the Warrior Program." 

What a surprise, indeed.


	3. To consider failure would be a heinous crime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Warrior Program preparations have began, a friendship with one of the future Honorary Marleyans take bloom as frustration and spite begin to take shape as your vessel's talent in physical combat continue to hide beneath your skin. Sooner than you'd like, the announcements for the Program's recruitment begin and you doubt your display of loyalty through betrayal of your own race will get you any further than a slime.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Titans - intelligent titans, one of the nine Titans, controlled by a Titan Shifter, also may or may not be regarded as a Warrior. 
> 
> titans - mindless titans, no intelligence whatsoever, the ones beyond the walls. 
> 
> This chapter is unedited so also do expect a few mistakes regarding spelling, most especially *Marleyan which I've written a few times as Marlian.

To be a warrior is to both defy and follow god's will. 

There was a constant mixture of emotions that spread across the being of a living entity, be it warmth that embraced one as if a summer sky blooming or a dreadful coldness that sent spine trembling. But as of now, you remained seated on the barely soft mattress with nothing indicating the existence that would tweak you to a state of, something that would at least embody, living. As the words of your uncle came barrelling down towards you, a new sense of void took over with the means of replacing the relief felt over what you could have achieved here in Marley for a while — a normal life, or at least the most normal an Eldian such as yourself could hope for in this life. 

Perhaps emptiness could be considered an emotion, in itself, if you looked behind the shamelessness of the thought, the desperation behind not wanting to consider yourself an abomination through the satire-tainted lenses you called vision. The man before you bit his tongue and swallowed his words for the meantime, taking notice of the hesitance that grasped and clawed at your core, as if hesitant to continue on the conversation with a worry-struck shift of your eyes to the side. The waning fire of the lamp, still dying in blazing glory, reflected against skin before breathing out through your nose, as silent as you could manage. To live a life within Marley, hoping for a life one could deem comfortable for the most part, ignoring your knowledge of what was looming over the fate of this country — was idiotic. 

Hope-engulfed idiocity would get you nowhere, you told yourself through specks of contemplation that would lead to nowhere in the end. Nodding curtly, you gestured for your uncle to continue whatever information he wished to convey to you although the gist of it was already understood but regardless of that existing fact, substantial information could enlighten you if you ripped apart his words from the seams. 

"The Warrior Program gathers healthy children from the ages of five and seven, to find a small few who are worthy of inheriting one of the seven Titans. I'm positive you haven't forgotten about their existence." 

Eyes downcast, you release a small hum of affirmation that yes, your memory about the constant history studies surrounding Marleyans and Eldians had yet to drift far from your mind. A weight settled itself on top of your head whilst in thought, picking away the dirt that managed to find themselves underneath your slightly grown nails. 

"You were always a smart one." 

He spoke, voice softer and hinting an unfamiliar fondness he usually didn't allow to resurface after years of trauma his identity as an Ackerman brought to his life. Pursing lips, you reckon he still feels rageful for his own inability to protect and save your parents, although you had never expressed or bore any hatred towards the ebony-haired individual for the deaths. But you don't express your thoughts to him, there's no relative need for your opinion on the matter and you bear in mind that he'd be able to handle himself and his own state of mind by himself.

You don't need to worry, although you have accepted this as truth, you, still, instinctively reached out your hand and place it over his forehead. It's awkward, it bears no sentimental meaning between the two of you but nevertheless, the corner of his lips pull upwards only slightly, you weigh the possibilities and predict it's mostly due to humor. It's a strange feeling, to try and detach the guilt from him despite the bothersome feeling of concern not tugging at your being. Dropping your head back to the side, your gaze trails over to the lamp for one moment before a striking thought collides with your mind; although you think it's more so a question stuck in memory as of now. 

"How'd you meet Mr. Hoover? And the information on the Warrior Program?" 

Your queries could be merely dismissed for the curiousity that would peak a child from time to time which you knew was inevitable. From innocent sounding questions to more severe ones that raged a war inside the one who was asked, a child wasn't to blame for their interest to garner a response to clear confusion. Though, it didn't seem to trouble your uncle as much as you thought it would, although it could have been nothing but a well-hidden reaction from your prying hues. Blinking tiredly and obviously fatigued, he began to explain that he had sent a bird to become his messenger. 

It was a painfully simple plan that relied purely on luck on who would be the one to receive the letter, but you were aware that the bird your uncle mentioned was more than a meager bird whom was given a task far too important. You knew who he spoke of, it was a trifling crow your uncle had introduced you a few weeks after the event where your recollections about your purpose here was regained. You thought his decision to raise such a useless creature to be questionable, why bother with something that didn't necessarily benefit him? There weren't many people inside the walls who owned animals other than those used for travel or ones that could be eaten such as chicken and pork which wasn't something you found to be strange. 

Resources inside the walls were limited, after all, and domesticated animals would only serve to be another existence that needed to be fed and taken care of, as if a child wasn't troublesome enough to keep alive. Being a resident inside Wall Rose and being one who could go further into the interior whenever you accompanied your father when he had to deliver a suit or dress to a client, you were able to catch a glimpse of a few stray animals such as dogs and cats. They were as scarce as a hen's teeth when it came to the exteriors, most who lived there had never even seen one, those who had snuck a glance on what those animals appeared like had either eaten one beforehand (as it was considered a rare delicacy within the walls) or had traveled within the interiors a fair amount of times. 

You had never bothered to ask him about the peculiarty of his interest in regard to raising th bird, you didn't feel as if you were in any place to do so anyway. As long as his somewhat misplaced allurement didn't bring you any direct unfortunate then you'd comment no further, it seemed to be a harmless fascination for an animal that couldn't do much in respect to harming you so you dismissed it, even forgetting that it existed as its purpose in your life was nearing nothingness. 

"How about the Warrior Program?" 

Taking a careful glance at your figure next to him, he appeared to contemplate revealing the unembellished truth to you although he didn't let it show through his facial expressions, the drumming of his fingers against his clothed thigh gave him away though. 

"Aldo isn't the only person I've been in contact with." 

At his vague explanation, you narrowed your eyes only for a small fraction but decided to drop it, it wasn't as if you needed to know every detail of your escape as of the moment — for now, the forefront necessity was to attempt to rest and regain your energy. With quietly exchanged "good night's" with each other, you began to salvage whatever tranquility this moment provided you with; it was a faltering moment and you knew but just this once, you wanted to feel somewhat safe within another set of walls. Just before heading off to a desperate fight for slumber, you had discussed with your uncle what he had offered to Mr. Aldo Hoover, you now knew him as, to make the man assist you in your escape. 

Your uncle hadn't responded very clearly on what the man wanted specifically, his motives were still unclear and you doubted that any fiber of your being would ever begin to trust him anytime soon, although it wasn't as if a part of you desired to. But you had unearthed that it was somewhat related to money and taking care of his son one way or another, his reasonings didn't seem to stem and center around generosity and a desire to assist to which you greatly appreciated — having to decipher kindness was a task you'd rather not have to deal with. At his core, Aldo was honest about his intentions (or, at least, the surface of his desires) and you respected that of him. 

The sensation of the firm mattress underneath you doesn't fill you with comfort, perhaps the strangeness of suddenly being in a location that could be deemed as safe irked you. A sudden shift in the familiarity of looming death was peculiar, you had thought to yourself as you stared at the dying flames of the lamp before sitting up, your limbs reprimanding your decision with a sharp but brief pain. Glancing at your uncle who laid down, facing away from you, you released a barel audible exhale through your lips. There was serious doubt that resided within you that he was asleep, but you knew he wouldn't mind if you went outside the room for a moment, if he asked then you'd simply make an excuse. 

You spent a few moments patiently waiting for your eyes to immediately adjust to the sudden lack of a light source. You were never exceptionally fond of having to adjust to darkness, it grimly reminded you of your death, your writhing body in a dark area and your back and sides pressed against the cold floor. For a five year old, you began to humor yourself through the reminder of your past life, your mind sure was preoccupied with lots of stuff. Jumping off the bed, your feet hit the floorboards and they creaked beneath your weight to which you winced at, ambling towards the door before your uncle spoke, voice gruff but obviously not sleep-coated. 

"Where are you going so late in the night?"

You made a motion to turn the handle of the door before pulling it open, glancing at his form in the bed with elbows propped, your answer was communicated calmly with an accompanying smile, small but existing.

"Water." 

He got the message instantly, nodding his head before laying back down, head hitting the pillow with his feet not being covered by the thin blanket that didn't do much for warmth but exist, though you didn't think he'd be able to sleep just yet — neither of the two of you would be able to, you guessed through a withheld sigh. Your steps were silent, though the floorboards still creaked beneath you all the same, the Hoover family was quite obviously not poverty-struck but you reckon they just didn't have much time to replace them which didn't bother you too much. 

Your bare feet softly padded against the wooden surface, eyes skimming over the dimly lit home with limited interest. Though you didn't initially plan to leave the room to simply drink water, you had decided to do so in the end given you weren't particularly certain what your next move would be. Searching for any books to read about anything regarding historical ties between Eldia and Marley would be fruitless, given you didn't know how their writing system worked. Learning the Eldian language had come naturally in terms of basic sentence structure but more complex ones, you had to take it upon yourself to learn from your uncle or parents whenever they had spare time to humor you. 

Regarding any major changes in grammar between the use of Eldian by the people of the walls and the people who lived more freely, you suspected there would be some that you'd take notice of but nothing too ground-breaking that you'd have to consciously switch between the two. After drinking some water, you had turned to head towards the direction of the living room, twisting on your heel silently as you quickly took notes of the floorboards that creaked the most under your steps, though it wasn't as if you'd remember them. You stopped once you felt a gaze on you, raising your chin, only to be met with the sight of the sole child of the household, seated near the window and using the illumination of the moon that managed to pass through the curtains as a light. 

You were vaguely disinterested at whatever the boy was doing but your orbs drifted towards the item in his hands and your eyebrows shot up slightly. It was a book, written in a manner you wouldn't understand it, quite obviously, but it still peaked your interest. The Warrior Program would obviously require you to take written tests regarding information about the Titans and such so you'd have to learn how their writing system operated sooner or later, you certainly wouldn't be chosen to inherit one of the seven Titans if you couldn't even read. In addition to that, the shame that would settle over you would be tremendous to an extent that thinking about it made you want to scoff. 

Matching his gaze, your own orbs clashing with his, Bertholdt shot up from where he sat before you could ask what he was reading out of pure curiousity. You watched him fiddle with the book in his hands, quite clearly not too certain on what he should do as you were standing near the exit and blocking his path. Shifting his weight from one foot to the other, the taller male stood there with close to no movement as he awaited anything that would break the tension, evidently not willing to be the one to do it. You stayed quiet for the meantime, hues trained on his figure, a few seconds passed by with silence taking over the room, before he ultimately stuttered out a question. 

"What are... Shouldn't you be asleep..?" 

At his trailing words, you thought of a good excuse that didn't involve the discomfort you felt within the walls of his home despite their generosity to lend a helping hand to you and your uncle, shifting hues to the side as they settled on a small pictures of his family hung on the wall before going to meet his gaze again. 

"What book is that?" 

Curiousity etched itself unto your features, brows shot up in the spirit of inquiry and head faintly tilted to the right. Not responding, the dark brunette turned the book over and took a brief glance at the cover before showing it to you. Narrowing your eyes at the cover of the book, you determined it was a simple story book with children as its targeted audience if the illustration displayed on the front was any indication. 

"What does it say..?" 

You were tentative to ask such a query, knowing that it would most probably make you appear as idiotic but you reckoned it could be excused since the both of you were still relatively young. Despite that thought though, you still wished you could ask in a more vague manner that it wouldn't give out your inability to understand the writing system Marley utilized. 

"You can't- you can't read..?" 

Though his tone wasn't mocking you in any sort of way, it was more a combination of bewilderment and confusion, if anything, you could feel a blanket of humiliation being draped over your shoulder as you begrudgingly nodded. Embarrassment was never an emotion you could handle well, and perhaps that was one of the reasons why you constantly strived to avoid failure even in your past life; you loathed the feeling of disappointment hanging in the air if it was ever directed at you and especially if it was accompanied with laughter that failed to be witheld. 

"It's called The Unpainted Wall." 

With a small and barely visible smile, he had responded, corners of his lips slightly upturned and you looked at the cover again, which he was still showing you. You were certain your uncle somehow learned how the residents of Marley wrote for he had somehow communicated with them through letters so you'd probably ask him for a few tutoring sessions just to get the basics in order, and you'd build up your knowledge with application on your own accord so you didn't need to trouble him any further. 

"It sounds interesting. Well then-" 

you turned on your heel swiftly as you faced the direction of the room you and your uncle were staying at.

"I better head out. Sleep soon, Bertholdt, it's pretty late." 

You heard him begin to say something, glancing behind you to face the tanned male as acknowledgement that you had heard although he had quickly cut himself off, gaze on the wall rather than your form. Staying for a few more seconds, you began to amble away when he didn't continue whatever he wished to express, steps relatively silent aside from the occasional creaks the floorboards gave out. 

The next day was spent rather eventfully, it began with your uncle telling you he wouldn't be able to teach you about the writing system and a few more things about Marley you had yet to uncover, merely the basic details, when you asked him given he had to go search for work as soon as he could. You understood why he wished to strive for a job so early on upon your arrival to foreign land, you were aware of his revulsion towards having to rely on other people, especially if he could have a say on the matter. It was a double edged blade, per se, he didn't cause your family any trouble and was somehow renown around town and around the people he interacted with for he was dependable and finished his tasks with little to no disagreements. He had even claimed that Commander Shadis disliked him less than the others. 

But his independence would often make him outright refuse any offered assistance, and you doubted he would ever verbally request for help with something relatively impactful if it didn't risk him his life. So with that in mind, you weren't too concerned when he had stated that he'd try to get someone to hire him even if it was just for simple work as a butcher or fisherman, which you thought to be a realistic standard. Jobs such as working at a café or even at a library would require even the most basic paperwork which you doubted he'd have enough connections to produce fabricated ones within the time he wanted them done, if he could get them done. 

Although, Bertholdt's mother had offered to teach you herself as she was more of a housewife than anything and had a much more flexible schedule than than both your uncle and her husband. For preparations for the Warrior Program, your uncle would be training you every day as soon as he got from whatever job he would be able to get that had a sufficient budget. You were expected to learn the writing system swiftly which you would desperately try to achieve, after such, your uncle would drop you off at the local library within Liberio's internment zone where you could learn more about Marley's culture and history, which was based all on their perspectives but you'd work with whatever you could receive. 

The plan to spend most of your time in the library somewhat made you delighted, various books stacked on top of shelves which lined the vicinity, tables and chairs in a specific area and silence all over, it would most definitely make you reminisce to the much more peaceful days where you were reading more for the purpose of it being your hobby than having to consume as much information as you could for the sake of inheriting a breathing killing machine. But, you humored to dissipate some amount of tiredness, if you were truly dedicated to something — things such as circumstances could hardly ever matter, right? 

As soon as you'd leave the library, the same time your uncle would be leaving for work (which was still undecided as your schedule relied on what his would be after getting a job), the two of you would train in terms of your physical strength. You were hardly an individual who one could say was decent in terms of combat of any sort so you dreaded the aforementioned training the most out of all the things you had to accomplish while still living in Marley, it would most definitely be the most tiring and your struggle was already imminent even then. You weren't too sure if your vessel in this world was stronger than your past one but you hoped so, though you reckoned it was significantly more sturdy if you were able to escape the island. 

The day continued with Aldo and your uncle leaving the home with each of their tasks in mind, then begun the studying. You excelled in academics so this wasn't too troubling, just another hurdle you had to jump over to get to the next, a bigger picture that you hardly wished to think about, if you had to be honest with yourself. Elda, you now knew her name to be, had lead you towards the dinner table after she finished washing the dishes alongside her son who had already taken a seat, the same book from the previous night in his hands as his eyes skimmed the page he was on. 

Noticing the additional presence, his hues flickered to meet your own before he returned his gaze to the book. About to hop down the chair and perhaps escape to his bedroom where no foreign presence was existent, he was quickly ceased by the words of his mother who had practically forced him to stay, additionally teasing him about his shyness to which he pursed his lips at — it'd be desirable if you could manage to have a decent relationship with the soon-to-be Warrior candidate but not necessary, but you'd weigh your options and spare the effort to, at least, not make you a target for hatred. 

The Marleyan writing system wasn't too difficult, perhaps a bit more complex than the Roman alphabet that was more widespread in your previous life but it wasn't anything that could be comparable to the one the Chinese utilized which you, more or less, breathed a sigh of relief for as you weren't too inclined in memorising so many characters in the span of a few months. The announcement for the Warrior Program would be around half a year from now, which gave you enough time to prepare for whatever information you needed to stock up on. 

The way Marley wrote was similar to the way the Japanese did, in a sense, wherein a sound (such as 'he, ga, wo, ka' and others) was attached to a certain character and that was used to spell out words. Also alike to Japanese, Marley didn't use spaces to differentiate their words, resembling how the one the people of the walls didn't as well. You didn't find it too unnerving, you thought as your pencil scratched against the paper Elda had provided you with. A few hours had already passed by then and she had given you a list of all the characters, she had even bothered to grab the flashcards she used with Bertholdt when he was younger to teach him the alphabet. You had taken an interest in language studies back in your past life, and the reason you had been captured in the first place was because you were headed to your Japanese learning school. 

Parallel to Japanese, Marley's writing system was nearly child's place but you appreciated the break, you weren't necessarily keen on memorising an additional 2000 more characters. Attaching mental images to the sounds made it more easier to keep in mind, and by the time lunch time had passed, you had managed to nearly write and make it appear natural, pencil gliding against the surface of the paper from left to right. You'd stop once in awhile, thinking about what character was attached to what sound before continuing on, making confident strokes. 

"You learn very quickly! I'm surprised!" 

The voice of Elda had spoke from behind you, abandoning her cleaning for a moment as she glanced at your paper. She had left you something that resembled homework, to which you needed to, at least, make an attempt in trying to rewrite the lines of one of the story books that Bertholdt owned. You had finished it fairly quickly, setting the aforementioned book aside and grabbing the newspaper that Aldo had left on the dinner table earlier, squinting your eyes at the sight of updates on whatever happened all around Marley, and a section dedicated to the events that occurred in other countries. 

You weren't expecting it to be there, in actuality, given the cruelty that the rest of the world expressed towards Eldians, but you had excused it before trying to correct your image about how Liberio was. You had never actually gone outside yet, excluding the time you arrived in Marley but the architecture spoke to you enough. Luck-luster but not poverty-stricken, you nodded slightly then before going to try and read the things written on the newspaper. 

Taking a glance at Elda who still glanced at you with a smile, you returned it with your own — too bright for you to be the one who owned it but it was better than being a seemingly empty vessel. You didn't care much about how others thought about you, it barely concerned you and you thought nothing of it but these people had extended their generosity towards you and your uncle, were the sole reason you could actually escape that island for the meantime, and provided you with food and shelter for now. 

Of course, they had circumstances for you to live with which included having to take care of their son and some money but everyone needed to pay a price for something. You doubted your uncle would allow you to work within the half year time you had before the start of the Warrior Program, and you would appreciate that. Although you weren't at all a snobbish child and wished to assist him in terms of your financial stability, you also wanted to focus on your own mission. To return to the walls, that was all you were dead-set on doing. 

"Thanks! It's not as difficult as I thought it would be!" 

You exclaimed, flipping through the newspaper again. You couldn't read it with a glance just yet, you still needed to concentrate if you wanted to understand the statements written on the paper but it was good enough for now, it'd suffice and your time in the library would certainly hone your reading skills. 

Skipping ahead, the next day had been spent with having to wear Bertholdt's old clothes (which weren't to bad in terms of their condition) given you had yet to purchase any for your own. It was a simple outfit, a pair of pants that were far too baggy for you, a button-up shirt and a sweater — it didn't exactly fit but you were happy enough to be wearing something. Aldo had topped it off jokingly with a hat but you kept wearing it nonetheless of it being for fun or not, heading off alongside the past owner of the clothes you wore towards the library as he knew where it was located. 

Your uncle had already found a job as a fisherman, much to your delight, he had probably impressed his employer with his sheer perseverance and dedication but you were content with it regardless of the details. You wore the same boots as you did back then, you had washed it yesterday and though they had yet to fully dry, you could handle the slight dampness through the pair of socks you had, yet again, borrowed from the boy beside you. 

As you began walking, a large structure caught your attention from your peripheral vision and you quickly turned to its direction, orbs settling on the hard-to-miss wall that separated the interment zone from the remaining of Liberio city's expanse which was solely designated for non-Eldians. It was heavily guarded by men, you guessed they belonged to the Public Security Authorities. Noticing your orbs settling on the large wall, the tanned male turned around as well before a soft smile reached his face, you wondered why he appeared so pleased with it despite the fact that he knew, perhaps even better than you, what it implied. 

"That's the wall, it separates us from the rest of Marley." 

He explained, perhaps catching on that you didn't know what it was given how intensely you were staring at it. You weren't particularly certain if it was because of an existing emotion — it couldn't possibly be because of anger, you harboured no hatred towards anyone in this world, all of your lividness was targeted towards the beings you had taken a habit in calling X, you refused to call them by the titles they flashed around as if a badge. Brushing the emotion that nearly tried to suffocate you, you breathed out and excused it as immense curiosity. You couldn't be bothered to figure out what it was, you simply didn't have the time. 

"You shouldn't try to go pass it, it's dangerous for us Eldians, we'll be punished." 

Staring at him, you nodded your head before moving along. 

"Sorry for troubling you with having to guide me to the library, Bertholdt." 

Taking a quick glance at you, he shrugged his shoulders lightheartedly to dismiss your concern before responding, taking a few quick and long steps to which you adjusted to without much trouble, adjusting the amount of steps you took. 

"It's fine, I like going to the library anyway." 

Humming, you spoke nothing more as the day moved forward. Everything went rather smoothly, the male and you found a table that was unoccupied and then began to search for books that'd match the topics that you were searching for. The available resources were limited, and it wasn't as large as you wished that it was but you were alright with anything that could provide you with the sufficient amount of information that you needed. 

Most of the existing books there were about the history of Marley, basic information on mindless titans, the wars — anything that glorified Marley and demonized Eldians, if you had to simplify it. It wasn't anything that extremely bothered you though, the victors were the one that wrote history and it was alright with you. You weren't here trying to be a saint, that wasn't your goal and all you needed to specifically do was survive and although focusing on things such as friendship and bonds were quite tempting, they were a second priority that you would indulge in if you were certain that you actually had a chance in your definition of victory. 

In terms of physical training, it wasn't the most pleasant experience, if you needed to be honest with yourself and you doubted your uncle thought otherwise. Pained groans and tired sighs left you in the regular as you raised your fists, trying to defend yourself if your uncle ever accidentally hit you which was unlikely, but you didn't want to play with your risks. Training wasn't extreme, given you were still young, but that didn't mean it didn't result in tired limbs and you limping back home to the little inn your uncle had ended up renting after his first pay check arrived. You were relatively glad you didn't need to keep actively depending on the Hoover family, although it didn't look like they minded too much. 

Your clothes mostly contained of Bertholdt's and his brother's old ones, you didn't really want to buy ones since your monthly budget was relatively tight. Elda and Aldo had given it to you the day before you left, saying they didn't have any need for it anyway and they had grown fond of you over the weeks you stayed there. You were sure they had merely appreciated your diligence in doing the house chores alongside the former and assisting with meal preparation, they had mistaken that appreciate for fondness but you didn't essentially mind it. 

Physical training, on the other hand, was mostly composed of simple but nonetheless tiring exercises such as running and doing pull ups and curl ups. After two months of training which resulted in your body being forced to adjust to the strain on your muscles, your uncle had introduced you to defense and offense in hand-to-hand combat. He had actually began to hit you when that part of the training had transpired, not relenting as he pushed you to the ground roughly and strained your muscles whenever you were unable to block properly. 

You were evidently struggling at first, only backing away until you reached a dead end in the beginning, before you mustered enough courage to block his attack but being hit by the next incoming one. Every shove and hit you received would be equivalent to every extra kilometre you were required to run afterwards the main training. 

He had mentioned to you after one particularly gruel day of training that you had potential, your reflexes and instinct were better than most he met but you didn't know how to utilise that talent and only flailed your arms around randomly in an attempt to either block or attack, and it would, more often than not, result in your own failure. The first part of his comment had somehow brightened you up, somewhat. To know that you weren't completely hopeless was an understated relief. Despite that fact though, it didn't ultimately mean that you got any better because, unfortunately, your reincarnation story didn't give you any breaks and you had to strive like any other living entity. 

At one point, you had grown to an extent of frustration where you had reverted back to mindless lunges, arms reaching forward speedily but quickly being blocked by your uncle. You had gritted your teeth then, jaw clenched as you took a step forward to try and regain the upper hand that easily slipped out of your grasp whenever you got a hold of it. You didn't know what you were doing wrong, you shouldn't even be exposed to this, your vessel was still growing— these kind of thoughts circled your mind relentlessly as a drop of sweat rolled down your skin before you felt your sense of gravity completely go over your head, body slamming against the dirt. 

"Anger won't get you anywhere." 

He spoke, still as calm as ever and it unnerved you that he barely looked like he had done anything while you were exhausted, panting on the ground with your clothes dirtied. With furrowed brows, you stayed in your position for a second more before he urged you to stand again so you could repeat. Whether he meant repeat the training or repeat your imminent and already looming failure was beyond you and you had no wishes in ever finding out as you begrudgingly lifted your body. 

"Why even bother..?" 

You mumbled the words, as he stopped walking and waited for you to continue what you wanted to say. Orbs shifting to the side and then to the ground, you proceeded to speak the words, even though you knew that you were testing waters that you shouldn't even touch. 

"Why do you even want me to join the Warrior Program? It was your idea for us to leave the island anyway, it was yours, it's your fault mama and papa died, so just give up... If you want to return to the island so bad, why did you even try to leave? Marley was your plan, so if you want to go back, do it on your ow—" 

He lifted you slightly by the front of your shirt, the cloth being bundled inside his curled fist and you matched his blown wide gaze with your own, a hint of fear in your hues as they trembled, your mind still preoccupied with processing what he was doing. Panic settled in quickly afterwards, your much more tiny hands were quick to try and push him away but it wasn't as if your small form could ever out-power his own as he kept you there before letting go, perhaps realization had finally hit when he had seen the terror that drowned your expression. 

"If you don't want to train.. just say it. I know it was my fault, you don't need to remind me. But your own incapability has nothing to do with my decisions, just because you're weak doesn't give you an excuse to use me as a target for your anger. If you want to stay here, go ahead and walk back home. But if you want don't want to, come here and let's continue." 

Your gaze hardened on the floor as your hands curled into a fist, irritation for not being able to do anything or even counter his statements nearly eating you alive. It wasn't as if you actually wanted to stay here in Marley, knowing what the protagonist of this series would be doing in the upcoming future — being inside the walls was the safest option you actually had in surviving whatever plan he had mapped out in his head with the rumbling, the after-effects and such. 

The moment your uncle had attempted to apologize, about to wrap an around around your shoulder to embrace you, your body was quick to respond with stepping away, almost instinctively. If you had looked up then, you would see the way his orbs widened with hurt even if he understood the reasoning behind your reluctance when it came to him making any physical contact with you. Sighing, he said,

"Let's just continue." 

As months went by, that event had nearly slipped by your mind but a certain reminder had stuck to you — you were all alone in this world and almost no one and nothing was created to serve you. Everything here just another hurdle you had to overcome and move on from, nothing more significant than the other in a sense that it would either kill you or it wouldn't. 

Your knowledge about Marley was growing as time slipped by, you immersed yourself with the language by reading books about the historical aspect the empire was so proud and eager to show off, using context clues to gain enough vocabulary, beyond what you needed to use in conversation and day-to-day application. You went to the library everyday, to a point that the librarians and other usual patrons were familiar with you and would ask you about what new book you were immersing yourself with. 

You barely knew their names, merely calling them by respectable titles and one could barely call the words exchanged to be a proper conversation but it was good enough. As the Warrior Program's recruitment soon grew closer and closer, more and more kids had been dropped off or accompanied by their parents to the library to learn more about the topics you had already touched up on. Perhaps a last attempt out of desperation to make their child somewhat more noticeable than other participants but deciding to cram that information in a child's mind at the last second was nothing more but a fool's game. 

You would often take a break from your reading to escape to the second floor where most didn't head for immediately since books in that floor mostly composed geography and government-related topics which most weren't interested in. You'd be there scoping out potential competitions, setting aside the ones who you knew were going to be chosen as the ones to inherit the Titans in the canonical timeline. Someone you had seen a long time ago even before the others was Zeke Yeager, a regular sight as said by the staff of the library when you had asked them about it. 

To stand out, loyalty was needed — there were lots of children that could be considered as prodigies that would enter the Warrior Program for the benefits and conveniences it rewarded the children and their direct relatives. You'd have to somehow prove you were an asset towards Marley, a loyal inferior being that could be trusted despite being given the power of a killing machine. What better way than to claim the role as an eavesdropper and find a few fellows that would benefit your cause. 

You hadn't been able to find ones immediately, but you were rather alright with it as you sat on your usual table with a few other children beside you who appeared as if they were near tears trying to understand the basic concepts of the Marleyan government. You'd spotted Bertholdt from time to time and you'd usually head your way over to his table and have a brief chat, casual conversation subjects such as the well-being of his family and the like — nothing too special. It seemed as if his father's illness to an extent that he was bed-ridden more often than not. 

But alas, after a few weeks of patiently waiting, you had gotten your chance by the time you were entering the library, walking up the steps before you caught fragments of a conversation that made a smile crawl up your face at the opportunity. It was a mother who was encouraging her son to study as hard as he could so they could finally get revenge on the Marleyans for all that they did to the glory that Eldians once had, a remainder of a rebellious group, you figured. 

Quickly, your eyes darted over to a man who wore a uniform nearby, surveying the crowd and you hurriedly ran up to him. Telling him about it and making him believe your words was an easy task, it was even more so as you watched the woman get dragged alongside her son whilst screaming. He was more empathetic to the situation of the Eldian's than others, so he had given you a brief headpat and word of his gratitude. You were glad the woman had decided to create such a scene, yelling that she didn't say anything similar which had garnered the attention of the people nearby. 

With a bright smile, you had become somewhat well-known for your lack of hesitance when it came to your loyalty to serve Marley and wash away the sins of your race. Of course, the question was raised on why you chose to wait so long and not blame someone innocent who could have worked just as easily, it was simple really; you loved seeing their faces rid of all colours as dread continued to settle in. 

Not too long from then on, the Public Security Authorities had gathered a large amount of Eldians for an announcement. You had glanced at your uncle then, and he had nodded at you with a grim look — the Warriors Program's recruitment was about to start, and you'd rather get eaten by dogs than not get accepted, which was unlikely if you weighed your chances. You had spotted the tall male somewhere in the crowd as well, and approached him after asking permission from your uncle. 

"Listen carefully, you Eldians!" 

The man addressed you all as if you were pigs, which wasn't ultimately incorrect. Not many were angered by it, thinking that they rightfully deserved the treatment. 

"We, the Marley Government, have decided to gather warriors of Marley among you, the subjects of Ymir! We have received a proclamation from King Fritz, that incarnation of evil who fled to the island of Paradis!" 

You looked around to see the reactions of the people that surrounded you, most adults seemed dedicated — for their children or for themselves, one or the other, or both at once. 

"He claimed that soon, Eldia would rule the world and once again control this continent through a reign of terror! We must smash these despicable ambitions of his to pieces! And that is why we will spend years selecting warriors from interment zones around the continent! Healthy boys and girls from ages five to seven will be gathered as potential warriors! Only a small few will become those chosen warriors!" 

As he said those words, two more Marleyan soldiers (one you recognized to be the man you reported that woman to) had began setting up an advertisement sign for the program though you doubted it was needed. Most of the people who had children under those age ranges already prepared their offsprings for this, it wasn't necessary to continue the reminder. 

"For these warriors must be worthy of inheriting the seven Titans now under the Marley Government's control! Furthermore, the families of these chosen warriors will be given the title of Honorary Marleyans, and we will ensure their freedome within this country! So you Eldians, it's time for you to show your allegiance to Marley!" 

Taking a glance at the boy beside you whose brows were furrowed, you asked him despite the answer being already provided. 

"Are you planning to join?" 

Your query seemed to fall on deaf ears for a moment before Bertholdt had inclined his head towards you and nodded firmly. Dedication, you had caught on from his rigid movements and a hint of fear, you took note. Of course, this was one of the only options he had in helping his family at his age, it was normal for the existence of terror to be ever present. You were relatively surprised he wasn't shaking tremendously although you could see him visibly shiver once in awhile. 

"Yeah.. how about you?" 

He asked you in return and you turned your head towards the front where the soldier was already stepping off the stage, and you nodded. A ticket to an area of safety where you could avoid Eren Yeager's plan for the rumbling. 

"Yeah."


End file.
